


Grief Stains the Alleyway

by ArlenaTheWriter



Series: Dust Angst [6]
Category: Dusttale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bullying, Child Murder, Dust acts like a father figure, Five Stages of Grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArlenaTheWriter/pseuds/ArlenaTheWriter
Summary: Dust can't accept Lucid's death.





	1. Grief Stains the Alleyway

Dust hadn’t heard her screams and begs for mercy. He was walking on the side of the street aimlessly, humming softly to distract himself from his racing thoughts that he could never quiet. He seemed almost peaceful in this state, but that didn’t stop the gasps of fear from the monsters around him. They would move away cautiously or press their children close to them, but Dust didn’t care. Not anymore, at least. Everyone could hate him, and he wouldn’t mind at all. Whether he had changed or not, the skeleton knew he would never be accepted. He was a killer, and that meant he had choosen his fate full-heartedly despite the known consequences. If anything, he enjoyed the hate.

 

It was the gleeful, yet horribly sadistic shouts that had lured him into the alleyway nearby. Just from the sound, Dust could tell it was a gang of kids, probably beating up a stray cat or dog. Maybe even a bird, if they had actually found one in this crowded city. Dust didn’t really know what was going on inside his head, but he felt the urge to see what was really going on. Maybe he would help the poor animal, he didn’t know. Something drew him towards that alleyway, and afterwards he didn’t know if he should have been thankful, or if he wished he had ignored the noise.

 

The first thing he noticed was that the kids were armed with weapons. Long switchblades, coated in dark red slick that stained the metal up to the hilt. The second thing he realized was that it was not an animal they were attacking, but rather a young and vulnerable child. His soul skipped a beat when he recognized the color of Lucid’s jacket on the curled up child. Dust’s eye flared as he raced to the crumpled figure. While many ran off or took a step back, a few kids still stayed, laughing quietly. Dust formed his weapon with his magic, and stood to a kneel, the murderous glint in his eyes scaring them off. He turned back to Lucid.

 

She was bleeding from multiple wounds, and her third eye had a switchblade embedded deeply into it. Her body seemed limp with pain, and tears stained her face, rolling from her empty eye sockets. The sight of her made Dust’s heart ache. How could he have allowed anyone to do this to her? Wasn’t it his job to protect her and keep her safe?  “D-Dust…?” She asked, her voice a hopeful whisper as Dust removed the wet and torn fabric that had muffled her screams. 

 

Dust gently pulled her close, being careful to not hurt the fragile monster. “Just relax, Luce.” The skeleton hid his panic by keeping his voice low and reasurring. He picked her up in his arms, preparing to teleport to the hospital. Lucid, however, made a low whine, causing his attention to snap back to the injured skeleton.

 

“There’s no point,” . Lucid had sensed his preperation, and she shook her head as another tear fell from her face. “...too late..”

 

Tears formed in the older skeleton’s eyes, but he did his best to hold them back. He was doing his best to stay strong, in efforts not to scare the child. It didn’t matter, for Lucid was in too much pain to even panic. She had given up completely. “Luce, no. Please don’t say that.” He knew the kid was right, but he couldn’t accept it. It couldn’t be too late. There had to be a chance. Dust couldn’t lose Lucid. Not now, not ever. The pain would be, was going to be, too much. 

 

“It’s okay.” She rested her head on his shoulder, lacking the strength to lift it anymore. Dust didn’t dare move or breathe, afraid that the slightest motion could bring about Lucid’s inevitable death. “It doesn’t even...hurt that much.” She tried managing a small smile through her tears. 

 

“Please Lucid, stay with me,” Dust begged, unable to stop the broken sob from escaping his throat. He found that the mental wall he had created was crumbiling and no ammount of cement could piece it back together. “Stay with me.”

 

Lucid just kept that dim smile on her face. It seemed to remind him that he was foolish to think he could save her at this moment.  She curled up a bit more on herself in exhaustion and pain. “Don’t rush to follow me,” Her voice sounded even more pained than before, most likely because it was racked with the same desperate pleading as Dust’s own words. “Let fate do its work.” 

 

“I won’t, I promise, just please stay with me.” Dust held her close, as if that could stop her from leaving him. His attempt was futile, but he was desperate.

 

“I’ll always be here,” she promised with a smile, and her body slowly went limp. The tears went still on her face as Dust gently set her on the ground. He couldn’t think straight as he knelt beside it. His mind was just a haze of red and purple as the child, the one that Dust had seen as a daughter, the one that Dust had taken care of, turned to dust in front of him. Just like everyone else he had loved.

 

Tenderly taking the torn and bloodstained jacket, Dust numbly stood up.


	2. Stage I : Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dust can't accept Lucid's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are going to be short chapters. Don't get upset at me for not going into much detail.

Dust found that his mind was drifting as he left the alleyway.  He had unconsciously picked up Lucid’s hoodie, but he couldn’t remember why he had it.  In fact, he could barely feel the fabric on his skin.  _ Lucid is back home _ , he thought.  Yes, that seemed right.   _ She tore her clothing when she was climbing so I had to buy her a new hoodie.   _ He smiled softly to himself, his mind not even picking up on the blood that was everywhere on him.  It stained his jacket, Lucid’s hood, and the ground as he walked aimlessly down the streets. A few people shot him concerned looks, or shook their heads and looked away, but that was normal.  There wasn’t anything wrong.

He soon made his way into the wooded area by the side of the city, finding himself ankle-deep in snow.  Dust didn’t notice the cold, and he clearly couldn’t see that the snow behind him was turning a brown-red, marking his trail and screaming the truth, just how Lucid had screamed for help.  But that was just a nightmare, wasn’t it? The faint memories that tugged at his mind. Lucid’s death. It had all been a dream. Some weird thing conjured up in his mind to torture him and ruin him to the point of no return.  He would come back to the shelter and he would give Lucid her clothing and they would talk.

Dust climbed up the treehouse that rested in a tall pine.  He shook as he climbed up, but the skeleton convinced himself it was because of the cold, not the terrors he had seen.  He stopped in the middle of the ladder, something telling him he wouldn’t like what he was going to see when he reached the top.  The chilling feeling was taking over him, and he shuddered, causing the ladder to shake. 

Brushing it off, the skeleton continued up the rope ladder and entered the treehouse.  The structure had been there for years, and it had provided Dust and Lucid shelter. It wasn’t the best place, but it would have to do.  When Dust entered the place was basically empty. Desolate. Bare. It was dark without Lucid’s gentle smile to brighten it up. Quiet without the younger skeleton’s soft giggles.  Dust looked around in confusion. Where was she? Where was Lucid? He unconsciously gripped the blood-soaked hoodie tighter in his hands as his eyes scanned the treehouse.

Dust climbed down the rope ladder quickly, leaving the hoodie in the treehouse.  “Lucid!” He called out as he hit the snow-covered ground. Panic was flooding his mind.  Whatever nightmare he had was drowned out by the fear. Had Lucid left the treehouse without letting him know?  He called out for her again.

There was no response.

Dust wouldn’t give up that easily. He scanned the trees and set off in a random direction, calling out for the young child. The cold nipped at his face, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind. His shoes were soaked, but the sound of the water in them soothed him. The crunch of the snow was the only sound besides Dust’s voice and the echoes of a memory. The echo of Lucid’s laugh.  _ Where are you hiding?  _

Dust searched until it was pitch black, and even then he wanted to press on. His voice was hoarse, almost gone, and he couldn’t stop shuddering from the cold. He was pretty sure that if he stayed in the snow any longer, he would end up dusting himself. He couldn’t have that. He needed to be alive in order to find Lucid. Where had she gone? 

Dust headed back to the tree house, still weakly calling out for the young skeleton. When he reached the treehouse, he climbed up and curled up beside Lucid’s hoodie. 

Days passed and still, he didn’t give up his search. When would he finally give in and accept the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. I finally wrote it.


	3. A Letter To My Readers

For those of you who thought this was a major update, I’m sorry. And, for those who are reading this at a different time, who are coming across this months after this chapter than I’m sorry if you may be confused. However, if you got this far into anything I’ve written, then it is important you read this.

I’ve been going through some challenges lately. It’s hard trying to find the light when you are sinking in a pool of scattered ideas that will never work, or good ones that fade away the second you reach for them. It’s frusturating to look at your screen while working and knowing that someone else is on the other side waiting for you to update. And when I say it like that, it sounds like I think so highly of myself. It’s hard to actually think that there is someone out there who actually wants to read my stuff. Sometimes it feels like they’re all fictional.

The truth is, I write for myself, and because of that, it is hard to keep up with demands. Your feedback is wonderful, but sometimes it’s poison because I realize how true it is. “This is really great. Keep up the hard work!” It’s so hard to have to admit that I can’t keep up the hard work because the idea is gone. I hate the fact that I have people waiting on stories I haven’t updated for two months, just because I didn’t want to try and update it. It feels almost selfish to sit there and deny people a good story because I can’t take the emotional stress.

So I want to apologize for the inconsistensy. For the fact that my mind fails me, and will continue to fail me. I will try to keep up with the very small demand. I will try to keep up with my schedule, but be prepared for me to fail you.

Your positive feedback encourages me, but that joy only lasts for awhile. It’s hard to revive it because then it often sounds like lies. Sometimes I need a little critism to motivate me.

I ask of you one favor so that I may be able to please you better. Please give me feedback, and I mean real feedback. The truth. The pros and cons. Give me something to build off so I can learn to not just write for myself, but for the world.

Thank you.  
I   
I am also sorry to report that this fanfiction is discontinued until further notice. If you enjoy stuff that is similar to this, I suggest you check out the rest of the series.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably post a few more chapters on the stages of grief.


End file.
